


Faerie Tales Don't Always Have a Happy Ending

by michii1213 (BuckytheDucky)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: AU, M/M, basically crack fic taken seriously, pre-serum steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 14:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7980148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckytheDucky/pseuds/michii1213
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony lives in a Tower, alone, separated from the life he used to have. Then, one fateful day, a beautiful blond boy stumbles into his life. </p><p>And nothing is the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faerie Tales Don't Always Have a Happy Ending

**Author's Note:**

> This fic stemmed from the fact my best friend texted me last night and asked me to tell them a story because they "wanted attention". So you can blame Reno for the oddity this work really is.

There was once a young boy who lived in a tower far above the world.

His only companion was a disembodied voice, who he cared deeply for and who cared deeply for him. They spent the days passing ideas back and forth, arguing with wit like whips but never with the intent of hurting one another.

Then one day, the boy heard something down below - the sound of someone stumbling through the overgrowth surrounding the tower's base. He looked down in time to see a young blond boy collapsing amongst the thistle and weeds. He asked his companion of any way to help the stranger; with the help of his companion, he managed to bring the blond into the tower using wires and the sacrifice of a metal creature he'd made. 

The blond boy slept in the young boy's bed for three days and nights, before finally stirring awake. Immediately after opening his eyes, he yelped and fell off the bed; he quickly scrambled to his feet.

"Who - who are you?" he asked quietly, his voice shaking. 

"I'm Tony. This is my tower."

"Why do you live in a tower?"

Tony shrugged. "Who are _you_?" 

"I'm Steve. Why do you live in this tower, and not in a house on the mainland?"

"I think it's obvious I'm not going to answer that. Why are you here? How did you find this place?"

"I'm not sure." Steve bit his lip and pushed his blond hair from his face with long, beautiful fingers that Tony recognised as an artist's. "One minute, I was walking down the street with Bucky, and the next I'm waking up in your bed."

  
They fell silent for a few moments, just staring at each other. Tony eventually looked away and started fiddling with the newest model of robot that he'd been working on for months. Finally, Steve sat on the end of the bed.

  
"Do you think I'll ever get back home?"

  
Tony didn't look at Steve as he tried avoiding the fact that he had to give the blond a really bad answer. "Honestly? I gotta be honest, because I can't lie to you - I mean, I can but I don't really want to, except I really do, because this answer is going to suck." He sighed. "I doubt you will. I've been stuck here for ten years. I've yet to find a way out, and I'm a damn genius."

  
"So how do you get food? Or, well, anything that you need? Is there a _bathroom_?"

  
"Yes, there's a bathroom. It's not the Dark Ages, kid. And as much as this pains me to say, it's most likely magic."

  
"Magic?"

  
"Yeah, I'm a man of science, so even considering acknowledging the m-word causes me intense, unending agony. But, seeing as I go to bed at night and everything's cleaned up and there's a meal waiting for me in the morning, I'm going to have to conclude that it's -" He shuddered dramatically, hissing the word "- _magic_."

  
"So... I'm stuck here."

  
"Looks like."

  
"Great."

  
The rest of the day passed in silence. Steve didn't move from his spot on the bed, and Tony didn't look up from the robot. They even split Tony's meagre dinner rations without speaking. When night fell, they didn't even discuss the sleeping arrangements; Tony merely slipped under the blankets on one side of the bed, and Steve did the same on the other. The moon was high in the sky by the time Tony realised Steve was still awake. He rolled over and stared at the blond boy.

  
"Don't worry, Steve. I'll get you out of here, I promise."

  
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

  
The next day, enough food for two had appeared on the small dining table. Tony and Steve ate in silence, neither mentioning the brunette's vow. Steve wandered around the circular room, gaze intent on the bookshelves along the walls; on his third inspection, he muttered something about how he could never hope to understand anything in the tomes, as they all pertained to mechanics, robotics, and thermonuclear astrophysics. Tony watched from the corner of his eye before tossing an unused notebook and pen in Steve's direction. Soon, the large room was full of the sound of pages flipping and the nib of the pen scratching against paper.

  
"I think it _is_ magic, as much as you don't like that word."

  
Tony barely glanced up from the bowl of stew that had sprouted into existence for dinner. "Uh..."

  
"Well, somehow, two portions of food showed up on the table this morning, then again for lunch, then again now. You said it always gave you food, but last night, there was less than this, so I'm assuming it only ever gave you enough for you to comfortably live off of without chance of leftovers rotting. But now..."

  
"Now, there's two of us and enough for both."

  
"Exactly. Magic."

  
"I really, really, really fucking hate magic."

  
"Magic is what's keeping you alive," retorted Steve with a wry grin.

  
"For no reason that I can see, yeah, I guess."

  
"You... _want_ to die?"

  
"No, what I want is to be out of this damn tower. A decade, Steve. Ten years I've been here, with no explanation as to how I got here, why I'm here, or why I can't go ho- why I can't leave. At this point in the game, I've long accepted that I'm never getting out of here."

  
"But you're a genius, right?"

  
"What's that got to do with anything?"

  
"That means I'm putting faith in a young man who I believe is smart enough to figure out an escape."

  
"An escape? Here's an escape for you: I could always toss you out the window," Tony snapped, dropping his spoon to the tabletop and storming away to the bed. 

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

  
The days passed slowly, like molasses in the middle of winter. Neither Tony or Steve said much except for "Do you want my bacon?" (to which Tony merely ripped the pork strips off of Steve's plate with a vicious expression on his face) or "Taking a shower, wanna join?" (to which Steve blushed furiously and attempted to hide his burning cheeks by bringing the book closer to his face, stuttering out a shaky "I'm good, thanks.")

  
By the time Steve had been in the tower for two weeks, his memories of Home had all but disappeared, so the sketches he'd filled the notebook with were of unfamiliar faces and scenery that brought only a sense of dull longing somewhere deep in his chest. He and Tony had figured out the best way for them to get along: Talking about superficial, unimportant things, such as whatever project Tony was working on or what meal the Tower's magic would bring for dinner - but never anything about their escape, especially never anything about what they might remember from Before (because though they recalled nearly nothing about their lives prior to their imprisonment in the Tower, they knew that this wasn't the only life they'd ever known).

  
The third week of Steve's presence brought a terrible storm that lasted four days and battered the tall Tower with biting cold, screaming winds, and frozen rain that slammed into the window with loud bangs that echoed through the room. The first day of the storm, Steve kept to himself (as usual) while Tony worked, until he caught sight of Tony shifting from foot to foot, hands shoved under his armpits as he read whatever notes he'd made. When the brunet had swept a hand over the page, Steve was shocked to see that his fingers were a deep, painful red. He acted on impulse, though he knew not where he'd obtained the instincts; he wrapped a thin hand around Tony's wrist, dragged the other boy toward the bed, and gracelessly pushed him onto the bed before jerking the blankets up over him.

  
"Steve?"

  
"I...I don't know."

  
"Well, it's a bit warmer. Could do with more heat, though."

  
Again, Steve was guided by unfamiliar instincts as he joined Tony under the blankets. Neither boy kept to their unofficial sides of the bed. Instead, they met in the middle of the mattress and entangled their legs together, shifted until their chests were within an inch of the other, arms wrapped around the other's body. It didn't take long for Steve to warm to a comfortable enough level that he fell asleep with the sound of Tony's breathing close to his ear, the noise of the squall outside the Tower, and the scent of Tony filling his nose.

  
Tony watched over Steve as the blond slept. It wasn't fair to him how Tony was treating him. But Tony... Well, Tony had had enough of this life. He didn't usually mind the Tower (or at least, he'd long ago become accustomed to living in forced solitude), but then Steve had shown up and caused Tony to reconsider so much. He'd forgotten there was a world outside of these walls, people besides the disembodied voice that Tony had known since the first day of his life in the Tower.  
Speaking of disembodied voice, Tony thought to himself. He hadn't heard Jarvis's voice since Steve's arrival. He almost missed the voice. But having tangible evidence of someone else's existence was enough to eradicate the guilt of not noticing Jarvis had gone eerily silent during the last three weeks.

  
The room was colder than Tony could ever remember it being. With a sigh that he felt in his bones, Tony burrowed closer to Steve and let the shared heat and soothing comfort of Steve in his arms lull him to sleep.

  
Late on the fourth night of the storm, they were lying in the bed, tangled in each other's limbs, silent but for their breathing, when Steve spoke up.

  
"I'm glad I met you."

  
"You mean you're glad you got stuck in this Tower for nearly a month so far, with no sign of ever getting back home?"

  
"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds stupid." Steve tried to push away from Tony, but Tony held on tight.

  
"Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry, Steve, would you stop moving?! You're letting out all the warmth!"

  
Steve stopped struggling. "Sorry."

  
"I didn't mean to be a dick. Really, I didn't. I just...I dunno. I never thought I'd ever be able to consider being happy that I'm here."

  
"Being stuck here seems kinda worth it, since I got to meet you. Tony, I don't remember anything from Before, but...I have a feeling I've never been this happy. I mean, you piss me off beyond belief, and we don't always get along, but you're you. And, well, I'm glad I met you."

  
Tony didn't say anything for a few moments, letting Steve's words filter through his brain a handful more times. Then, without any permission whatsoever from his higher thinking, he shifted and twisted until his face was an inch away from Steve's.

  
"I'm glad I met you, too. I'm about to do something probably stupid now, stop me if you want."

  
Steve smiled, a gentle smile that sent Tony's heart racing in his chest, but he didn't move away, and he didn't say a word. Tony slipped a finger under Steve's chin, tilting his jaw up a bit, and leaned forward.

  
Tony had read, back in the first year of living in the Tower, the faerie tales about true love's first kiss and the magic of it all, but he'd since grown up from that wide-eyed, hopeful, optimistic, naïve seven-year-old that he'd been and realised the magic of first kisses and true love didn't exist. There was nothing scientific about it; the euphoria and joy that came from "being in love" was nothing more than a chemical reaction in one's brain.

  
But now, with Steve's soft lips under his own, their mouths moving in sync even as they pressed closer together... Now, Tony was quickly rethinking everything. Tony's arms tightened around the blond; his brain screamed that it was a bad idea, but he didn't listen, just kept shifting against Steve, who was doing the same. After nearly five minutes, Steve whimpered slightly and pulled back.

  
"I, uh..."

  
"You _didn't_."

  
Tony could see the blush speeding along Steve's face, even as Steve responded, "I did."

  
"Jesus, why do I think that's hot? Good god, Steve."

  
"Sorry."

  
"No! No, don't ever apologise. Trust me, I'm not going to be upset about you getting that, uh, stimulated by me. I have no problem whatsoever with that." Tony froze. "How old are you?"

  
"What?"

  
"Please tell me you're not some thirteen-year-old kid that I'm defiling."

  
"I'm eighteen."

  
Tony narrowed his eyes and gazed over what he could see of Steve's body. "You're awful small for eighteen."

  
"Yeah, I know."

  
Steve glared at a spot over Tony's shoulder, while Tony thought about what had occurred. With a soft laugh, he pulled Steve close again.

  
"I like it. A lot. Can we pick up where we left off?"

  
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

  
After that night, there was a lot more touching between the two, both in bed, under the blankets, even without the excuse of the storm once it wore itself to nothing more than a light breeze; and small caresses of each other's shoulder as they passed by, gentle squeezes of a hand as they ate, and sweet kisses as they researched a way to escape the Tower.

  
Nine months slipped by, and Steve and Tony are almost disappointed to find that, between the two of them working diligently, they've found the way out, they've discovered the means to escape and go back home. The night before they agreed to put the plan into motion, they spent hours in the bed, intent on memorising every line and curve, every spot that elicited that moan and that whisper of a name that came out sounding more like a prayer. Tony didn't want to forget the way Steve tasted beneath his mouth; Steve hoped he'd always remember how Tony felt as he became the mould around which Steve's body fit perfectly. Neither wanted to let go of the other.

  
Steve's eyes were shining with tears he refused to shed, but his vision was only slightly obscured as he finally was the one who branded himself deep under Tony's skin with every movement, every shift, every soft whisper and deep moan. The sun was peeking over the edge of the window, lighting the room in an orange-yellow glow; Tony's skin was bathed in pale fire as his back arched, his mouth worked out silent pleas and inaudible praise, eyes shut tight against the sensations. Steve pressed a tender, open-mouthed kiss to Tony's neck and let himself go at the onslaught of a tidal wave of emotion. They didn't speak as they lay, curled around each other in a sticky mass, trading hot kisses and soft touches.

  
The sun rose higher, and their time ran short. After quickly cleaning up, they stood in front of each other.

  
"Do you know what's going to happen?" asked Steve, though he knew what the answer would be.

  
"No. I don't. I wish I did. I wish I could tell you we'll still be together, just...not in the Tower any more, but I can't. I can't lie to you, Steve, but I desperately want to."

  
"It's okay, Tony, I get it. We'll find out together, I suppose." He stepped closer, pressed his mouth to Tony's for what could possibly be the last time. "I just hope that, no matter what happens, you never forget that I love you."

  
"You bastard, why would you tell me that now?"

  
"What better time than now."  
"You fucking asshole, I...God, Steve, you couldn't have told me last night? Or any other time before now, when this could very well be our last few minutes together?"

  
"I love you, Tony."

  
"Yeah, I love you, too, dick." Tony tugged their bodies flush together, mouth finding Steve's without effort. "I fucking love you, too."


End file.
